


Be OK

by Grand Buzz (quodpersortem)



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: (it makes sense when you read it ok), Alpha Harry, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Character Death Fix, Established Relationship, Filth, First Time, I don't know where/if I can find the appropriate tags for half the stuff that happens in this fic, Knotting, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Omega Louis, Time Travel, Top!Harry, and stuff, bottom!Louis, clearly, unprotected sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-14
Updated: 2014-12-14
Packaged: 2018-03-01 13:00:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2773916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quodpersortem/pseuds/Grand%20Buzz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For the autumn bottom Louis fic exchange. Written for heartabreak. And with this, a little sorry note to heartabreak, there is some minor implied angst but I promise it's resolved really quickly!</p><p>Harry wakes up in 2011, on the day Louis goes into his first heat. He ends up helping out his younger self, coaching him through fucking Louis (and getting some for himself too, of course).</p>
            </blockquote>





	Be OK

**Author's Note:**

  * For [heartabreak](https://archiveofourown.org/users/heartabreak/gifts).



The moment Harry wakes up, he knows that something is _off_.

The light is wrong, the temperature is off, and more importantly—so is the _scent_.

He’s used to Louis near him, to Louis smelling like he belongs to Harry, to the other boys staying right the fuck away from them when Lou’s about to go into heat.

It smells like Louis is about to go into heat, yes, but not—

 _Definitely_ not the way he’s _supposed_ to smell.  He—he stinks, Harry realises, anxiety turning him repugnant because Harry is used to his own Louis, crawling on top of him the moment his heat sets in even if it’s in the middle of the night.

More importantly, though, he doesn’t smell like he’s Harry’s.

It takes several more moments before the truth of that sets in. Alphas and omegas mate for life, everyone knows that—Harry, Harry remembers them deciding that this was it for them, deciding that they might as well, only _months_ after the Big Discovery.

And God, God, he knows he’s smelled Louis like this before, once, years ago.

That has him out of the bed in seconds, because he remembers that day, remembers feeling confused and insecure and letting himself being guided by what he thought were _hallucinations_ , a side-effect of Louis’ pheromones and the pain of his first-ever popped knot.

He stumbles out of the room, overwhelmed by the smell, realises that the other boys have probably realised something is up.

God, it’s Louis’ first heat.

He finds the door without a problem,  stumbles through, stumbles in on himself crouched over Louis and looking worried.

“He’s in heat,” he forces out. His senses are kicking into overdrive as he watches Louis writhe on the bed, clearly in agony. And Harry—Harry knows what he needs to do, his mind clearing the moment he sees the panic in his younger self.

“He’s _dying_ ,” young-Harry is sobbing, confused and panicked, and Harry takes a deep breath.

“Get him undressed,” he says. “I’m—believe me. Then—then yourself.”

He only vaguely remembers the words from when they got spoken to him, but they come out effortlessly now. Because of that, he figures he’ll stop worrying and see this through—realising suddenly that this is a fixed point in time, that he was always going to be here even if it’s rare, so so rare.

God. With the coincidences and rarities they’ve gone through, he shouldn’t even be surprised.

After he’s double-checked the lock and made sure no one can spy through the looking-glass, he returns to find Louis naked and trembling as Harry’s holding him close.

“He,” Harry clears his throat. He’s by no means a virgin—wasn’t even at the point Louis went into his first heat, but this situation is foreign and uncomfortable and more than a little scary, only elevated by the smell of both his own (young-him) and Louis’ fear. “He’s _really_ going into heat.”

He watches young-him snap up his head, curls bouncing around his head, and for a moment he feels sad at what he now knows that boy’s going to endure.

“Louis is a beta,” he says. “Like, he’s been tested, he’s—he’s never been in _heat_ before, he’s not—we have to use _lube_ —“

“I’m wet, though,” Louis interrupts them, sobbing dryly as he spreads his legs. “I feel so bad.”

It’s only now that Harry really looks at him. Before, Louis was curled in on himself but now he’s on his back on the bed, writhing, hips pushing up in the air and making his hard cock slide against his stomach. Thick strands of precome leak from the tip, making his skin look shiny in patches, and when he spreads his legs there’s quite clearly a wet patch under his bum.

“Touch him,” Harry tells his younger self, and he wants to stay out of this but he can remember—knows he won’t last. His own cock is swelling in his jeans, set-off by the scent of sex, by the scent of Louis, his Alpha-instincts kicking in.

He keeps his own hands on Louis’ thigh, smoothing over heated skin in what he hopes is a gesture of comfort while other Harry brings a trembling hand down to Louis’ arse.

“He needs your fingers,” he says.

“Haz,” Louis moans the moment Harry’s fingers push in, two at once. “So good, feels better now, fuck—“

“Keep going,” Harry nods encouragingly. “He needs it, just get him off like this so he won’t be too sore later.”

“He’s so wet,” young Harry looks up at him, his eyes big with wonder and amazement.

“Yeah,” Harry nods, “feels pretty good, right?”

He watches himself nod and remembers what will come next, only a split second before it happens. Harry  leans down, in, pushes his tongue against his fingers and to the red, wet skin of Louis’ hole and makes him scream. Louis is pushing down on Harry’s tongue and fingers relentlessly, clearly needing more, and Harry knows from experience it won’t be much longer but his boy’s so _loud_ , so loud and desperate and Harry’s afraid he’ll hurt himself like this so he lies down next to him, wraps an arm around his waist.

“Listen,” he tells Louis, wiping his fever-wet hair from his forehead, then leans closer and drops his voice to a whisper. “Listen, you’ll get through this. I know you will, I’ve seen you do it before.” Louis is trembling under his fingers, and Harry decides to pinch his nipple to get his attention back. “You’re in heat, and I know it’s scary right now, but Harry’s here to take care of you and so am I. We—“ he pauses for a moment because he’s not quite sure what to say, if he should make this sexual or something to calm him down. In the end, he settles for, “We love you, Harry does and I still do.”

Louis stills for a moment, looks at him with bright eyes, and asks, “You do?”

Harry nods, smiles, rakes his hand through Louis’ hair again and then he’s seizing up, coming all over his belly from other-Harry’s tongue and fingers.

Harry watches himself sit up, wiping the slick from his mouth and cheeks with his hands. “Did that help?”

Louis nods, but he’s still hard and Harry can see that his younger self will need some attention soon as well, wonders—for one moment—if it would be wrong if he sucked off a previous incarnation of himself. Probably.

“Do you want to fuck him?” he asks, and he watches himself shudder and groan right as Louis pushes himself up on his arms.

“Please,” Louis tells Harry, “do what he says, just—“

Harry watches himself nod frantically, shuffling closer to Louis so he can align his cock with Louis’ hole.

“Fuck him,” Harry tells himself, and then he’s watching himself move, slow at first and faster once he seems to realise just how wet Louis is.

Louis is writhing on the bed again, clearly not having found any relief yet, so Harry leans down to kiss him again. Louis grips him desperately, clutching his fingers in his shirt and pulling himself up and into Harry’s lap.

Harry breaks the kiss to assess the situation, to find young-Harry stare at him instead of at Louis, and Louis’ eyes are still flitting back and forth between them.

It feels like a bold move when he leans closer, closer to himself, presses a kiss to young-Harry’s lips. Louis moans at the sight and Harry can feel fingers scramble against the coarse fabric of his jeans, Louis trying to open them, like one cock inside of him isn’t enough—and that thought is enough to have him twitch in his jeans again.

Young-Harry’s lips are soft, and there’s the distinct lack of stubble that Harry has grown so used to over the years, kissing Louis. Harry briefly indulges himself, deepening the kiss and trailing his fingers along a strangely familiar jawline before he pulls back.

“You want more, Louis?” he asks, still staring at Harry, willing him to start moving his hips again.

“Please,” Louis moans, and then Harry’s looking down, scrambling to open up his own fly; Louis’ hand is pulling him out before Harry’s even quite able to process what’s happening.

“God, you’re so desperate,” Harry whispers down at him, and Louis nods, eyes half lid as he blinks up at Harry, licking to wet his lips. “Wanna suck me, do you?”

Louis curls his body into Harry’s lap then, the first lick of his tongue coming as a shock to his system and Harry almost topples backwards off the bed. The thrusts that push Louis further up on the bed stop for a moment, but when young-Harry has realised that nothing bad happened, he starts up again.

Harry moves his hand to the back of Louis’ head, guiding him down on his cock. “Feels good, doesn’t it? Feels good to take it from both sides when you need it so much—“ Louis moans again, hips moving up in the air as his cock starts to leak more again. Harry reaches for it, starts jerking Louis slowly.

It doesn’t take much longer at all before Harry’s coming, either, stilling as his hips jerk into Louis’ bum.

And Harry wants to pull out but—but that’s not what Louis needs now, so he’s moving fast, moving to grab his younger self’s arse, thigh, to keep him close to Louis. Both boys in front of him are gasping and Harry knows that his younger self is popping a knot right now, filling up Louis more than either of them could have imagined, before.

“Keep still,” he instructs himself. “You’ve—you’ve popped a knot—“ and he watches young Harry slip down his hand, feeling at the base of his cock and then shivering as he pumps another load of semen into Louis. “It’s gonna go down in a bit. Five, ten minutes.” He remembers the hypersensitivity, the way that coming that often used to exhaust him.

2011 Harry looks like he’s on the verge of tears, but Louis has his eyes closed and looks calm for the first time tonight.

“Harry,” he whispers, edging closer to him, “heeey, it’s fine, okay? Look at your—at our boy. He’s doing good.”

The fever’s gone out of Louis for now, and 2011 Harry does nod, his hand trembling as he grabs Harry’s arm. Harry moves closer to hug his younger self, to pet him through the sudden shocks of orgasmic pleasure while Louis lies relaxed and half-asleep.

Eventually, he helps his young self ease his cock out of Louis, taking a few moments to rub at the semen leaking from Louis’ fucked-out hole. It’s stretched out and wantonly red, and Louis’ cock is twitching back into action already but Harry’s pretty sure that he’s asleep for now and he knows they’ve got a long day ahead of them.

While 2011 Harry goes for a quick shower to scrub off the slick and tears, Harry cleans up Louis and helps him under the blankets. He holds Louis as close as he can and wakes over him for a while until his younger self comes back, which is when he takes a piss and orders room service.

By the time that the food has arrived Louis is back up again, whimpering. Harry forces them all to eat, knows exactly how important it is, but Louis is finger-fucking himself before they’re even done, gasping and staring between both Harry’s desperately.

This time Harry does fuck Louis, marvelling at the smoothness of his skin, at the desperate need in his eyes, at his incredible tightness from barely getting fucked at all so far; the slick leaking more copiously than it ever does nowadays, now that he’s on hormone suppressants.

Louis moans every time Harry pushes into him, fast and hard and exactly the way he knows will get him off fastest because there’s no time for drawing things out right now. 2011 Harry jerks Louis off, gentle in comparison to Harry’s own thrusts, and Louis comes well before Harry’s done—comes and it takes the edge off but—

“You want my knot, don’t you?” he pants, and Louis nods, throwing an arm over his eyes only to have it pried away by young Harry, who presses kisses all over his face until Louis is begging to come again.

Harry pulls out, flips him over to his stomach and proceeds to fuck him as hard as he can, his hands firm on Louis’ hips, hopefully giving his younger self an idea of what Louis needs when he gets like this. Harry comes before Louis this time, pushing himself deep into the velvet-hot heat as he spills himself finally, sweet relief after being hard for hours.

He pulls Louis up along with him, has him sit in his lap, firmly impaled on his knot while young Harry leans down and starts sucking Louis down, head bobbing until Louis’ knuckles tighten on Harry’s legs, in his hair, hips moving in little increments that have Harry spill into him again.

This time, there’s no energy left for any of them.

They cuddle up against Louis’ either side, keeping him safe and warm and close enough that they’ll wake up along with Louis.

Sleep comes easy.

-

He wakes up in 2015, with his own Louis pressed snug against his back.

It’s good to be back.

(Later, though, later he’ll tell Louis about what happened, fuck him and re-enact it, making Louis take his knot and telling him just how beautiful he is, stretched so fucing wide around Harry).


End file.
